


Dish

by WriterWithNoName1



Category: The Eagle of the Ninth - Rosemary Sutcliff, The Eagle | The Eagle of the Ninth (2011), The Eagle | The Eagle of the Ninth - All Media Types
Genre: Cooking, Domestic, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Happy Gay Farmers, M/M, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-09
Updated: 2017-09-09
Packaged: 2018-12-25 15:51:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12039192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WriterWithNoName1/pseuds/WriterWithNoName1
Summary: Marcus enjoys cooking for Esca.Esca knows every meal will be a surprise. (Edit: Text is now fixed and beta'd!)





	Dish

 

Marcus is turning into a cat.

That is the only explanation as to why he has brought Esca dead mice.

Esca blinks a couple of times just to make sure he isn’t mistaken, maybe these are just very tiny birds.

Then again birds don’t usually have tails.

He regrets letting Marcus cook for them both, and turns a little green at the thought of rodents scurrying around in his insides.

“Dormice!” Marcus declares, pleased with himself, before sitting down opposite Esca. “I was very fortunate, Uncle had imported them for his upcoming birthday at great expense, and asked if I’d like to sample a few-“

“Indeed?” Esca asks, trying to sound interested and not mildly disgusted. Yes, he’s had worse, but the slop he’s eaten during his bondage was at least not shaped like the animal it was made from.

How is he supposed to eat them exactly? Like an owl, just swallow them whole?

Marcus has poured them both wine and is beginning to start on his own meal. He’s a man who enjoys his food, and they are comfortable with each other enough now so there is no awkward ceremony to be upheld. He just eats.

Esca watches. Marcus takes his skewer of rodents and bites into one. The juice drips from his lips and Esca feels the need to shift about a little in his chair. His friend is fair more appetising than whats on his plate right now. 

The roman continues to bite and chew in slow, savouring bites before he notices Esca hasn’t tried his food yet.

“Is something the matter?” He asks.

“…I’ve never had mice served to me before.” Esca admits.

Marcus’ eyebrows go up. “They’re a delicacy in Rome! Only the wealthiest can afford them on a regular basis. The mice are fattened in a clay pot called a glirarium-”

Esca feels the uncomfortable sting of guilt hit him in the chest, Marcus has gone to a lot of trouble for this. He wanted to share what he perceived to be a treat with his friend; and Esca pays him in kind by not even trying it.

Taking a breath, Esca bites into one of the tiny bodies on his skewer.

It’s… not terrible. Good in fact.

Still not something he’d have often but he understands a little better now. Still, Esca will need to eat about ten of these to be satisfied.

“It’s... not bad.”

Marcus beams, although he’s trying to cover it by chewing. Their eyes meet for a moment longer than usual, and Esca feels flushed with warmth and affection-

Then Cub steals a mouse from his plate.

Marcus makes a noise of protest, and tries to rise but his leg doesn’t allow it. Esca laughs as Cub swallows it whole.

Marcus glares at their wolf. “Do you have any idea how much these cost?”

Cub answers with a belch, and goes to lie down by the fire.

**\---**

Esca is drowning in olive oil.

There are bottles upon bottles everywhere, some even stashed in the most peculiar places, in case of emergencies? Esca cannot fathom what dire situation can be solved by olive oil.

He tells Marcus as such, and gets an offended look in return.

“Olive oil is essential to cooking.” Marcus says with an air of certainty that doesn’t invite any argument.

 _Roman cooking_. Esca thinks, sulking. When Marcus had volunteered to be in charge of dinner for the foreseeable he hadn’t thought it would cause any harm.

He wanted to keep Marcus happy.

Because Marcus makes this _face_ when he’s not happy. A sort of deflated, lost puppy in the rain type of look that Esca can’t and won’t allow to happen.

So now he has to suffer olive oil.

Truth be told, he’s not overly fond of the stuff. He cannot understand Marcus’ obsession with it.

Marcus can sense Esca isn’t pleased, and comes over to kiss along his scruffy jaw with soft shhing noises.

He’s feeling loving today.

Esca feels like he’s being bribed somehow, but at present he cannot bring himself to care that much.

“You know…” Marcus whispers into his ear. “Olive oil has many different uses…”

Oh? _Oh_.

Esca will allow the olive oil to stay for now.

\---

Marcus has an apron.

A white one.

Esca has no idea where he’s acquired it, but it suits him, oddly.

It also makes Esca feel _things_ , and its only breakfast. Or _Ientaculum_ as Marcus says it.

Esca nibbles on his bread (that Marcus has made for him no less) and tries to not get too distracted; he needs to think about what needs to be done today.

There are chickens to feed, horses to curry and shoe, pigs to slop, and a fence that needs mending.

Still, Esca’s eyes keep trailing up and down Marcus’ thick arms as he kneads a new batch of dough. He’s covered up to the elbows in flour, and there is a dash of it on his cheek.

That’s it.

Esca gets up and tugs on Marcus’ tunic.

Marcus looks around, and Esca kisses him fully and lustfully.

His love lets out a surprised noise, and his face turns pink. How wonderful.

They break apart, panting.

“…right now?” Marcus asks, eyes darting back to his work. “But I haven’t finished.”

“Leave it.”

“But it won’t rise-“

“I said leave it. I’m tired of bread anyway.”

Marcus is dragged reluctantly away, Esca promises to buy him some marinated olives next time they’re at the market.

Marcus replies. “I can buy my own olives. Thank you very much.”


End file.
